


Good Apple

by Multiple_Universes



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Bad Apple AU, Humour, M/M, POV First Person, Romantic Comedy, Sarcasm, Short One Shot, Studio Ghibli-ish, bad boy Yuuri Katsuki, not sure if this counts as a crackfic or not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-22
Updated: 2017-09-22
Packaged: 2019-01-03 23:15:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12156789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Multiple_Universes/pseuds/Multiple_Universes
Summary: What if the ficBad Applewas a G-rated fic set in a fairytale world?Told from sarcastic Yuuri's point of view.





	Good Apple

**Author's Note:**

> This all happened because of a conversation I had with Ladyofthefl0wers. The main idea was, if Bad Apple was about to go explicit, then there should be a G-rated version to balance out the universe. And then this happened. Or, as I like to call it, what if Studio Ghibli decided to make Bad Apple and for some reason Yuuri Katsuki (yes, bad boy Yuuri) narrated it.

_Once upon a time-_

_Really? You’re starting this off with “once upon a time”?_

_Yes, I am. Calm down, Yuuri._

_Hmph! Fine! Whatever!_

_As I was saying, once upon a time there was a young man… Look what you did, now it just sounds all wrong._

_Let me tell this story. It will be much more interesting._

_Fine._

 

I didn’t ask for this, you know. I didn’t want my life to be a _literal_ fairy tale. Because that’s what it was.

I was born and lived my whole life in the magical, faerie, everything-is-awesome town of Hasetsu. I think there was something in the water that made all of the villagers the cheeriest people in existence and for some reason I never got it.

“Yuuri! Why are you so upset?” my sister would ask, bouncing joyfully into my room. And she _would_ bounce in on her feet.

I wouldn’t bother explaining anything. I gave up on that when I was seven.

At the ripe old age of fifteen I did the logical thing and put together a flying motorcycle. What else do you do in a town of happy villagers who sound like… look how do you explain to kids about… They’re happy, okay? Very happy. This is the kind of happy that makes people suspicious. Anyways.

I marched off to the convenient magical library that has all the books the plot could ever need and found myself a book on how to build flying motorcycles. It didn’t go “putt, putt”, though, because I never included the part that makes that noise.

I flew off in search of a town with villagers that were miserable, or, failing that, at least villagers who weren’t so happy all the time. I wasn’t going to rescue them. I just wanted to find this town and maybe live there.

What I found instead was a big tower and – you guessed it – a long haired princess trapped inside. I left her where she was and kept going.

Then I saw another tower. And another one.

After about the tenth tower I realized I was in trapped-princess country and sped up.

Now, I’m not one of those sappy people who believe in love at first sight, but when I passed over a frozen lake and saw the person skating over it (I didn’t know it was called skating until later, of course), I had to stop and I had to look and well, _of course_ , I was found out. Fairy tale bushes are actually really hard to hide in, as it turns out (something to do with wanting to let the other person see you, I think).

Next thing I knew this tall long-haired man was standing in front of me, offering me his hand.

“Hello! I’m Victor. What’s your name?” asked – you guessed it – Victor.

I’ll just skip the introductions. He took me into his house and introduced me to his aunt. He lived in a little cottage by the lake with this aunt. Apparently his parents had gone off into the woods one night and never came back.

His aunt took a liking to me immediately, which she decided to show by giving me a big smack on the arm and making me stand in the corner like I’d done something wrong.

Okay, so we didn’t get along at first, but she made the most amazing pies.

I stayed with them for a good week when it happened: we were attacked.

It was another peaceful morning at first. I was sitting by the window, debating if I wanted to go out for a ride when Victor sat down next to me.

“Can you give me a ride?” he asked.

I turned around to say “no, I don’t give rides” when I saw the face he was making at me. Puppies and kittens are nothing compared to this. “Sure. Fine,” I grumbled, trying to show him just how much I dreaded the whole thing.

And, of course, after this he knew exactly how to get me to do anything he wanted.

We flew through the sky as he clung on to me and shouted something. I expected him to be afraid of heights, but he laughed and sounded so thrilled that I flew up as high as I dared and then dropped us suddenly. It turned out to be a terrible idea: he screamed right into my ear as we fell, making it hard to focus.

I stopped the bike right above the ground and went back up again.

Up and down we went like… like a thing that goes up and down as if you’re coasting down a line of rolling hills.

After a while I didn’t mind his screaming so much. Maybe I was just going deaf. I started to play with the speed of the bike and couldn’t help feeling as if I was playing with another kind of control as Victor’s screams got louder or quieter.

And then, just as I decided to stick to going in a straight line for a while, an odd thing happened.

A strong wind swept in and nearly carried me off.

“Hang on!” I shouted, which was stupid because Victor was hanging on tightly, not _like_ his life depended on it, but _because_ it did.

Thinking it was nothing more than just a gust of wind, I took us higher, but then it followed me.

I tried to shake it off. I tried making sharp turns, but nothing helped.

And then I remembered about the special thing I’d made a few days earlier.

You have to imagine the situation I was in to understand why I thought this mad idea would work.

There I was, on my flying motorcycle, with someone who was definitely not the love of my life clinging on behind me. We were going really fast. I was half-deaf from the wind and the screaming.

So I pulled out the water pistol and I shot at it. Yes, that’s right, when chased by a gust of wind (which, knowing my luck, was probably an evil spirit of some kind), I shot _water_ at it.

To this day I have no idea why it worked, but work it did and the thing left us alone.

Life was mostly uneventful after that until an annoying kid showed up at the cottage and demanded that I teach him to make and use water pistols and then things got really wild. Apparently word got around that I made one that worked and destroyed evil spirits. Or something.

But I’ll leave that story for another day.

Why was I telling you this anyway? Don’t you have anything better to do? I know I do.


End file.
